


the odd love-life of clyde donovan

by orphan_account



Category: South Park
Genre: Confessions, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, OT4, Sleepovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3140873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's one thing to be in love with one of your best friends; it's another to be in love with all three of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the odd love-life of clyde donovan

**Author's Note:**

> i'll admit; clyde's my son. im sorry ive deceived you for so long.
> 
> anyway! enjoy this shamelessly self indulgent ot4 fic!

When you are six years old, you meet Craig Tucker, all black hair and green eyes and mumbling. You decide immediately that you like him, because he asks before he borrows YOUR markers when he just takes them from everyone else, and he knows grown up words like "shit". His hands are always covered in the ink of markers because he's always drawing all over his worksheets. You don't mind when he asks if he can draw on yours, too.

Craig lets you pick at his food, mostly because he says he doesn't like meat (which you think is absurd) and he wants to be a word that means "i dont eat a lot of yummy things." You think it's cool, because Craig is cool, and also, it means you get more than just your own lunch. 

Your friendship is quick to evolve into the best friend level, exciting and new and you have your first ever sleep over at his house. He lays a sleeping back on the ground next to yours - his has red stripes and is fuzzy on the inside a bit and yours is just black - and he smooths out all the wrinkles before looking expectantly at you. You sort of fumble around your own sleeping bag to do the same; he tuts like a grown up and says, voice high pitched and already nasally, "I'll do it."

When he's done, he sinks into his sleeping bad, droopy eyed and obviously tired (you think that he looks nice like that, kinda peaceful like a kitten sleeping). You carefully clamber into your own, about to zip it up and start to doze when Craig reaches a small, marker stained hand out, smacking unhappily at your half zipped sleeping bag. "Gimme your hand, numbnuts," he says when you stare at him for a long time, "I wanna hold it while I sleep." You nod, sliding your hand out of your sleeping bag and taking his. He's asleep fast, hand still clutched in yours.

You wake up at least ten times that night, each time to check and see if your still holding hands. Each time, you are. You decide then that you and Craig will be friends forever, and that you are undoubtedly in love with him. 

As weeks of friendship turned into months, then further into years, it came as no shock when two other boys attached themselves to Craig, formed your little group. Of course, you had more friends, but it's not like every Friday since fifth grade rolled around you went over to any of their houses. No, that was reserved for you, Craig, Tweek, and Token, usually alone into the night at Token's parent's estate. 

At first, it was awkward when you found out that you would all share a bed. Now, it's normal; your back pressed against Craig's stomach, arm slung over Tweek's waist, hand curled against Token's smooth side. You'd been doing this since sixth grade, cuddling intently with your friends, and now you were sixteen - almost five years it's been like this. It's odd, you think, how it had escalated from the almost ritualistic Friday sleepovers at Craig's house, just the two of them in separate sleeping bags to now Token's large bed, the four friends crushed together in the middle of a sea of plush pillows and downy comforters.

You wish you had some cool story as to why you do the sleepover cuddle muddle, but it's mostly some sappy bullshit:

You meet Tweek in second grade and didn't like how he yelled or pulled his hair or how skinny he was. This was all the more reason for Craig to dislike him, you thought, and for the year he did. It made you feel pride, as if you had finally made a good decision without Craig needing to guide you, instead feeling like you were finally doing some guiding of your own. You were prideful until third grade, when the fight happened between the twitching blonde and your best friend. When it was announced you thought nothing more than "if Craig dies I'll kick his ass" and placed your bets, of course, on him. 

As it turns out, fights bring people closer. Tweek hung around Craig, hunched and trembling, skin and bones and bruises. He made you nervous, and you still didn't fully like him - especially now that he was taking Craig, your Craig, away. Well, no, not really. But in your mind, it wasn't fair that now instead of the homey, itchy floor of your hat wearing friend's bedroom, you dragged your sleeping bag up to Tweek's too-large room. 

The blonde is nice, you think, after being his sort-of friend for a while. It's true that he clings to Craig like some sort of super boy adhesive, but he knows you exist; offering you coffee, or snacks that he brings but doesn't eat. (Of course you accept both, because free coffee and food? Hell yes.) It doesn't stop you from being skeptical of your venue change, and you can't help but worry anxiously if Craig would skip out on your special sleepover thing. Your sleeping back deposited sloppily besides, his on the floor, Tweek's tucked curiously in the corner, near the closet door. 

His room smells like coffee, sweat, and medication but once your settled, back against Craig's legs as he sits on the bed beside Tweek, you start to like it. When it Criag starts to get tired (you know he's tired because his eyes droop and he makes grabby hands at anything that he wants) you tug his pant leg towards the sleeping bags. He nods, stumbling quietly over and tucking himself in, out instantly after a half sighed "night fuckers." 

Disappointment clouds your head as you shift to your, still plain black and boring, sleeping bag, gently trying to smooth out the wrinkles with lightly trembling hands. Tweek is mostly silent, save for huffs of breath and quiet whimpers, the snapping of his joints as he twitches - but he watches you. You don't really realize when you start crying, feeling betrayed because he didn't even ASK for your hand, and also because you're no good at smoothing out sleeping bags. 

"Oh - oh jesus - whats wrong Cccc-clyde? Is it something I - I - I did oh god, oh jes-sus fuck, do you hate me?? Oh god, you do - you do and you're go-going to wake Craig up aaaa-aand - ggghhhhaaaaa -" Tweek rambles when he sees you crying, and worried that he'll pop a gasket, you sit back and wipe furiously at your face. You shake your head at Tweek's theory, over and over. You keep crying.

"No, it - it's just me and Craig do this thing, at Friday sleepovers, and he fell asleep before we could -"

"OH GOD!! DID I BBBB-BREAK UP YOUR WEEKLY SEX TIME OH JESUS, THIS IS TOO MUCH, I'M GOING TO -" He lets out a small shout; Craig is a heavy sleeper and just lets out a slightly disgruntled noise. You wave your hands frantically, shaking your head.

"No, stupid! We just - we hold hands - and he smooths my sleeping bag." It sounds stupid when you say it out loud, but Tweek goes quiet and you shrug, shuffling into your own sleeping bag and closing your eyes. Your nose is running, your eyes stinging and your jaw a little sore from your teeth grinding together. It takes you almost an eternity to get comfortable.

And just as you do, you feel something prodding at your side. Tweek, only visible by moonlight, holds out a shaky, boney hand to you. It's nothing like Craig's ink covered, nimble fingers, but when you glance up and see that Tweek is smiling, eyes still wide with caffeine and paranoia, your stomach drops, heart leaping. His hand cups yours, and you shift around comfortably, content because it's just like the first sleepover with Craig, except this is Tweek. And you're okay with that.

You decide, as you drift off into sleep, with the blondes trembling hand and skinny fingers clasped around yours, that you actually do like him, and he's also your best friend. You also find that you are, undoubtedly, in love with him.

You had met Token before Craig or Tweek had - you had met him in second grade, when you were moping about because Bebe Steven's had told you that you were bad at math and were stupid. Normally, you would tell Craig, but he had been absent that day. Token had been walking down the hall when he saw you, sniffling about stupid girls. He had taken you to the nurse, to get you to calm down, and left you with his name, and the impression that he was actually a pretty awesome guy.

It wasn't until fourth grade that you really got to know Token. By then, the trio of Tweek, Craig, and you had been going strong; though, compared to Stan's group, it was missing an important component. A fourth boy. Token was in your class, smart and handsome and good at football. You play football, too, but you're not as good as Stan or Token. In fact, you weren't very good at all, but you continued to play, enjoying yourself.

Craig made it known that he clearly wanted Token as the fourth member, in that perfect Craig way that you adored. He marches right up to the kid, sticks out his middle finger (not much to your surprise) and says, high pitched and nasally as ever: "I don't know you, or really like you, but you're in my group now. We do sleepovers every Friday. That means tomorrow, asshole, and since your the newbie, it's at your house." Without waiting for a reply, he digs out a marker from his pocket (again, you were unsurprised), grabs Token's arm and wrote down his number. "Call me with your address and shit." 

Sputtering, Token stares at him, then glances back to you and Tweek. You shrug apologetically, though shift slightly in front of Tweek, who shrieks and grabs he back of your shirt. "What if I don't want to? You can't just do that to someone you don't even know, man," he says after a moment. Craig shrugs, turns around and flips him off over his shoulder, 

"Make sure to call me."

It's almost shocking when Craig emails you Token's address that night - not just because it's an estate, but because he actually gave it to him. The shock doesn't stop you front showing up there the next day after school, sleeping bag in tow. 

You're unsurprised to find Tweek already there (he had a thing for being early) and surprised that Token looks pleased when he opens the door for you. When Craig arrives, the sleepover goes without flaw. It seems that after the playground fiasco, your best friend had talked to Token more, cleared up some things. They're friendly, though your hatted buddy seems to stay nearer to Tweek while Token stays towards you. Briefly it weirds you out, then you think, no, its just that he's nervous and he's met you before.

When bed time rears its head, Tweek, Craig, and you do your new routine. Craig remembers to smooth your sleeping bag, but doesn't bother with Tweek's, because he fidgets and doesn't really sleep anyway. Token stares on awkwardly from his own sleeping bag, piping with a, "We could all just sleep in my bed, guys. It's huge." It's awkward proposal, and you all refuse, simply scooting your sleeping bags together so the three of you are touching, if only slightly. Token looks rejected, but you don't really feel bad as you drift off into sleep with your friends.

You wake up in the middle of the night. You sit up, sticky with sweat, peeling yourself out of your sleeping bag. You forget where you are until you see Token tapping at his phone in the dark, still looking vaguely rejected but more bored than anything. You clamber towards him, sitting on the cool carpet floor beside him. He looks up, "What?"

You shrug, chew your lip. "It's hot over there," you say, gesturing to your former spot between Tweek and Craig. Your newest friend shrugs, then short of smiles, laughing to himself.

"You guys are like basically sleep humping each other."

You gawk. "No! Gross, man," You shove his shoulder and he responds with a laugh and his own shove. Soon it's laughter from both of you until you both collapse onto your backs, giggles slipping out but dying away. Silence stretches, and after a while, Token shifts around. 

"You guys are really close," he says, looking at you. His eyes are pretty, you think. You reach out, lightly touch his cheek. 

"They're my best friends," you reply. Another stretch of silence fills the space. You clear your throat. "Hey, can I, uh. Can I hold your hand? While I sleep, I mean. Or I can go back over to them." Token had shut his eyes, but he opens them again. After mulling on it, he quietly offers you his hand.

"That's a little weird but, yeah," he answers.

You nod, folding your lips to look at his hand. It's rougher and thicker than both Tweek's and Craig's. There's a healing wound on his palm. You take it without much thought, relaxing slightly when he gives your hand a careful, testing squeeze. You squeeze back. You feel calm, okay. Protected maybe. "Thanks, dude," you mumble, half asleep.

You decide that this is your best friend, too. And, you realize, the distress delayed until morning when you're fully awake that you love Token undoubtedly, too.

It's been almost five years - you haven't tried to tell any of them. But you guess they might feel the same, seeing as you're currently in Token's bed, curled up with them. You suppose you should tell them, maybe, eventually. It's kinda an important thing. But, you're drifting off on the thought of it, eyelids heavy as you curl tighter around Tweek - Craig responds by sucking back up to you, and with a lazy smile you trail your fingers across Token's bare side. You guess this is okay ; you can't kiss them or have sex or whatever, but this is okay for now.

Before you finally slip into sleep, your mind produces one last coherent thought. "Tell them all at once, soon." 

And then, you're asleep, dreaming of both the past and the future at the same time.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah uh, hope this okay???? i finished it at 3 am soooo. Im kinda a slow writer but its only going to be 4 chapters (unless i decide to shorten or lengthen it) so. be hopeful for a chapter a week. hope you liked rhe first chapter!!!


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